


exile

by octothorpetopus



Series: folklore [1]
Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Gen, Jealousy, M/M, POV Sam Seaborn, Post-Canon, Song: exile (Taylor Swift ft. Bon Iver), this is legit the most depressing thing I’ve ever written, why am i like this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:14:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27590507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octothorpetopus/pseuds/octothorpetopus
Summary: Sam isn’t surprised to find that Josh and Donna are finally together when he returns. He is surprised to find that he’s deeply jealous, although of who or what, he isn’t sure.
Relationships: Josh Lyman & Sam Seaborn, Josh Lyman/Donna Moss, Josh Lyman/Sam Seaborn, Will Bailey/Sam Seaborn
Series: folklore [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2016896
Comments: 3
Kudos: 21





	exile

Sam is glad to be home. It’s odd, when he was here before, he never really thought of it as home. Home meant Orange County, with his parents, or New York, where he’d lived and worked before Josh came and swept him off to New Hampshire. But even after three years away, he now thinks of D.C. as his home. His fiancée breaks off the engagement after a week, and he finds he’s not particularly upset. History repeats itself, after all. He rents the same townhouse he lived in before, and it’s as though nothing has changed. 

The White House, too, is somehow exactly the same and completely different. He still goes in every morning and goes to Josh’s office first thing, like he always used to, only it’s not Josh’s office anymore, it’s his. The Lakers banner and First Navy Jack that used to occupy his office in the communications bullpen still hang on the walls, but Sam still always expects to see maps and black-and-white photos when he looks up. Those hang in Josh’s new office, formerly CJ’s, formerly Leo’s. No one seems to be where they used to. Donna has moved from her bullpen cubicle to the First Lady’s office, Ainsley has moved from the steam pipe trunk distribution venue to the counsel’s office. Ed and Larry remain, the same as always, and although everyone has shuffled, it’s a comfort to know they’re only a short walk away.

Josh steps into his new role with grace and ease and it’s hard for Sam to remember why he left in the first place, with Josh here. Admittedly, part of the reason he’s so hesitant to come back is that he’s embarrassed about leaving. He left his friends, everyone he loved, to come back to his hometown and run for Congress, only to lose and ruin any future chances to run anywhere else. Will is the first to welcome him back, with a quiet, years-too-late  _ thank you  _ whispered under his breath.

Sam comes into the office early one morning, his insomniatic tendencies returned after years of keeping them at bay. He stops at his office to drop off his coat and briefcase, and then wanders the halls, watching the dim light of a still-dark January morning sweep in through the windows. Mornings like this remind him of the reason that he loves working here, because when the rest of the world is still hazy with sleep, the White House is wide awake, crackling with electricity, restless and always an hour ahead. He stops to get himself a cup of coffee, and on a whim, gets a second for Josh. If he’s not in already, he will be soon, and honestly, the sooner the better. They’ll never quite catch up to one another, not again, but each few minutes of time they spend doing anything other than work gets them a little closer to where they used to be, always on the same wavelength, running at the same speed. The closer he gets to Josh’s office, the faster he walks, until he’s practically jogging through the halls, struggling not to splash hot coffee all over himself. It’s simply that he can’t help it, like there’s a magnet in his gut that makes him want to sing and scream and run straight to Josh, wherever he is. And for the first time in years, Josh is just down the hall. 

His assistant is not in yet, which makes sense, because Sam shouldn’t even be in yet, and the door to his office is closed, but there is a thin line of light under the door, and the sound of footsteps shuffling on carpet. Sam shifts both coffees to one hand and knocks lightly.

“Josh?” No response. He knocks again. “Josh? Are you in there?” Once again, no one responds. He hears the voices all too late, already turning the door handle and pushing in. At first, his eyes struggle to make sense of the tableau around him. Everything freezes for a moment, like figures in a wax museum, close enough to reality that sense can be made of it, but off somehow, not quite in tune with the real world. Josh is standing by his desk, back to the door. He is standing between Sam and a third person, obstructing Sam’s view, but when time begins flowing again as usual, and he leans in to kiss the third person, Sam can see that it is Donna. One of her hands rests on the knot of Josh’s tie, and the other on the back of his neck. Sam steps backwards, suddenly flushing red, but accidentally kicks the door, startling Josh and Donna out of whatever intimate moment they may have been sharing.

“Sam!” She speaks first, stepping around Josh, who glances down at the floor.

“Hi, Donna.”

“Good morning.”

“Morning.”

“I should go.” There was a day where she might not have maintained her composure so well, but those days were behind her. Sam doesn’t see her much anymore, which makes sense, they both have a lot to do, and as time goes on, they will work out their schedules more. Still, he hates that he doesn’t see her every day. He and Josh watch her go, and then turn to each other, both looking sheepish.

“...Donna?” Sam asks at last. It’s not that he’s hurt they didn’t tell him, they haven’t exactly had a copious amount of free time. He is surprised, though, and that in and of itself surprises him. There were days once when he wished they’d just hurry up and get together. Now that it’s happened, it seems unimaginable. Josh shrugs.

“Things happened while you were gone.”   
“I’ll say.” Sam suddenly remembers the coffee in his hands and holds one out to Josh. “Milk, two sugars.”   
“You remember how I like my coffee.”   
“Of course. Your best friend’s coffee order isn’t something you just forget.” Something flits across Josh’s face, halfway between shock and admiration, with a dash of something Sam can’t quite understand. “So. How long’s that been going on?”

“Sort of started right after the big nuclear thing. Really started election day.”

“So… months.”

“On and off. Took us awhile to work out all the kinks.” Sam chokes on his coffee. “Metaphorically, I mean.”   
“Right.” They are sitting on the edge of the desk next to each other, and Sam pokes Josh with his elbow. “We never see each other anymore. Outside of work.”

“I know, I’m just so busy.”

“Mr. Chief of Staff.”

“Knock it off. Anyway, tonight’s my first night off in awhile.” Josh pauses, coffee halfway to his lips. “We were going to go out, get a drink at one of our old spots. You want to come?”

“Who’s we?” For some reason, the idea of spending a night drinking with just the relatively-newly coupled up Josh and Donna makes Sam want to vomit his coffee into the nearest garbage can. In years past, he would have thought nothing of spending a night out with his two best friends. These aren’t years past, though.

“Me, Donna, Will, Amy, Lou, Otto, Bram, Ronna. Some old friends, some new friends. You in?”

“I am.” Josh seems relieved to hear it.

“I have to be in the sit room in a half hour,” he says, and shoos Sam towards the door. “Thanks for the coffee, man. Really. You don’t know how much I needed it.”

“What are friends for?” Sam closes the door behind himself and starts back towards his office. All at once, his coffee tastes like battery acid, and although there is a cardboard sleeve around the cup, the heat scorches his palms. “Get it together,” he mutters, gaining an odd look from an intern who seems surprised to see the deputy chief of staff talking to himself. Oh, well. He can cope. Sam has a long day of meetings on the hill scheduled for today. He very simply does not have time for Josh and Donna, or to think about the sharp, wrenching pain in his chest. He hasn’t felt pain like that since the time he was hit in the chest with a 95 mph fastball and broke his collarbone, back in his college baseball days. Nothing had been broken today, not a bone, not a bond. So, then, what could possibly hurt this much?

When the day is done, and he finally can, Sam goes home first, to change out of his suit and into a sweater, and then he goes to the bar. Everyone else is already there, which is a comfort. He’s not very good at small talk. It’s been several weeks since Sam arrived in D.C. permanently, but he still doesn’t know the new people very well. They seem nice enough, especially Ronna, who always smiles at him in the halls, but they’re not really his friends yet. There are enough of them that they take up a few tables, and Sam sits at the far end, by Will. Donna and Josh sit towards the middle so they can talk to everyone, and Sam is reminded of high school, watching his classmates fawn over the head cheerleader and the quarterback, prom king and queen, the picture-perfect couple at the center of the universe. Sam watches them out of the corner of his eye as he chatters and jokes along with the rest of them. He sees how Josh is up to refill Donna’s glass before she even asks him, how she tugs at the back of his collar to reign him in when discussion gets too heated, the way his hand defaults to her waist and her hand sits on his shoulder, as if held together by a series of magnets.

“I’m going to the little boys room,” Josh announces, and disappears into the Friday-night crowd. Donna turns over her shoulder to watch him go, then turns back to Sam and Will, flushed red and grinning. Sam bites his lip, wishing she wouldn’t look so damn exhilarated. Maybe if she looked a little less thrilled just to be in love, a little more apprehensive, he could stop feeling so upset with himself for being upset. Nothing that’s happened today should upset him, that’s the thing. So Josh and Donna are together. Big whoop. It’s not like he didn’t see it coming, so why, now that it’s happened, does he wish he could go back to the nights that he and Donna used to spend in this same bar, drinking the same brand of wine, pretending she wasn’t upset Josh was out on a date with some other girl? Sam had always been her first call when Josh had a date, and he didn’t mind. 

“Jesus, you guys are like something out of a rom-com,” Will says, and mimes gagging. Donna laughs, and Sam laughs along with her. Will said what Sam has been trying to say this entire time, but it’s enough of a joke that Donna isn’t hurt.

“Sorry. I know we’re a little-”

“Like hormonal teenagers?” Sam interrupts, and Will holds his hand out for a high-five.

“Ha-ha.” Donna rolls her eyes.. “Can I just say that I love having both of you here at the same time? Double the sarcastic comments about my love life. Who wouldn’t want that?” Ignoring this, Sam turns to Will.

“Speaking of, I thought you’d try to get the hell out of dodge as soon as you could.”

“I am. I leave for Oregon next week, I’m just running out the lease on my apartment.”

“You’re really going to do it? You’re going to run for Congress?” Will shrugs.

“Just because you lost doesn’t mean I will.” Sam whistles and shakes his head.

“Low blow, Bailey.”

“I’m kidding. When the administration wraps up in four years or eight years, you should go back to California. Try again.”

“I don’t know.”

“You should, Sam,” Donna interjects. “I’ll drag Josh out to run your campaign.” Sam winces, and he can’t tell if she notices or not.

“Thanks.” She’s already so confident they’ll make it four years, or eight. It’s an assurance he never would have expected from the Donna he knew three years ago. It’s an assurance he’s never had for himself, as hard as he tries to hide that fact. 

“I should go,” Will yawns. “I only have a week left in my California king before I move into my sublet in Springfield.” He pulls on his jacket and downs the last of his beer. “Tell Josh I said goodbye, would you? I’ll try to see you guys again before I leave.” As he goes, his fingertips graze the back of Sam’s neck. Josh comes back just in time to see the door close behind Will.

“Damn. I’ll call him tomorrow.” He sits back down beside Donna, and they fall back into position. Once again, they remind Sam of wax museum figures, indescribably and ever-so-slightly off. One-by-one, the rest of their friends trickle away too, until it is just the three of them left in a half-empty bar at half-past-midnight. They are all exhausted, but Sam finds that he can’t leave. As much as sitting here watching Josh stroke Donna’s hair makes him feel like his clothes are made of sandpaper, they are his best friends, and any peaceful moment together is something to be treasured, not ended. 

“You seeing anyone, Sam?” Josh asks. Sam wishes he hadn’t. It’s only been a couple of weeks since his  fiancée went back to California, leaving her ring on the kitchen counter. It hadn’t surprised Sam when it happened, and he never really felt like mourning, but Josh has no way of knowing that.

“No. Not yet.”

“You ought to get back out there, man. I know a great girl in the congressional liaison’s office, I could set you up with her if you want.”

“I’m… I’m good. Thanks.”

“Seriously, man. I feel a little bad. The two times I went and dragged you out to the White House, you were engaged, and both times, it ended. I feel a little responsible.”

“It’s fine, Josh. They just weren’t the one.”

“Well, it’s now my mission to find you ‘the one.’ I consider myself something of an expert when it comes to selecting a woman to love.” He glances at Donna as he says this, and it’s so sappy Sam cannot help but snort. “What?” His snorting turns into outright laughter. Josh and Donna look on, confused. “What’s so funny?”

“I’m sorry. Really, nothing’s all that funny, just…” Looking between the two of them, Sam wants to laugh again, but he shoves it down. It’s not because anything’s funny, not really. He laughs because there is nothing else to do. “ All night, you’ve been talking about eight years from now and ‘the one’ and I just find it-” he smiles again, but this time it is a bitter, resigned smile. “I find it laughable.”

“What about it's laughable?’” Josh is not smiling.

“I don’t know. Honestly. You’re happy together. That’s great.”

“Sam.”

“What?”

“What the hell is your deal? You’ve been acting weird all day.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

“I mean, you don’t think it’s a little funny that it took you eight years to realize what the rest of us have known since… well, since forever? And now that you’ve realized, it, you immediately think that you’ll be together eight years from now. The same amount of time that you spent completely oblivious. It’s just- it’s funny.” Josh’s eyes narrow. Donna preemptively tugs at his collar, but he waves her off.

“Sam-” her voice is quiet and shaky.

“It’s funny? It’s funny that I’ve finally found someone who loves me? It’s funny that I’m happy? Really, Sam, tell me what on earth is so goddamn funny about that.”

“I told you. Nothing.” Sam is regretting that he said anything, but there’s no stopping this train. Josh’s temper was part of what originally endeared Sam to him, that he could lash out and assert himself when Sam couldn’t. Now, though, Sam realizes that he has never been on the business end of Josh’s anger, and he doesn’t much like it. 

“You know what? You’re jealous.” Josh’s brown eyes thunder, and as he speaks, his voice increases in both pitch and volume.

“Jealous? Of what?” 

“Out of the three of us, you’re the one who tried the hardest to have some semblance of a normal life and a normal relationship and now ten years down the road, you’re alone, and we’re not.” Sam blinks a few times, still absorbing. Josh has never been one to criticize him for not having a ‘normal’ life. There was a time when neither of them had anything close to normalcy, and neither of them wanted normalcy. That was for people who weren’t changing the world. But something has changed in Josh, and it  _ is _ Josh who has changed, not Sam. Sam is the same person he has always been. It’s just that he’s been left behind.

“I don’t have to sit here and listen to this. I don’t have to be lectured by some guy who had everything fall in his lap.” Josh scoffs, but Sam isn’t going to give him the chance to interrupt. His life has been interrupted by Josh, however unintentionally, and for the first time maybe ever, Sam is going to tell Josh exactly how he feels. “Someone who’s dating his former assistant who still loves him even though he spent nine years treating her like shit because he couldn’t see that she loved him the entire time.” Briefly, his eyes meet Donna’s, and although he isn’t wrong, he regrets not being gentler with her. She has done nothing to deserve his anger. Anger that is slowly turning to heartbreak. Josh has broken his heart a thousand times, almost always unintentionally, when he was shot, when he didn’t tell Sam about the president’s MS, when he joined the Santos campaign and didn’t even tell Sam that he had left until Sam saw him on TV. This is the first time that Sam thinks maybe Josh is looking to hurt him on purpose, finding the weak spots in his armor and hitting them with all he has. And maybe Sam has allowed those weak spots to develop. Nonetheless, he will not allow himself to be struck down by the one person who is always supposed to have his back. At least, not without a few good shots of his own. “I may be alone, Josh, but at least I’m capable of loving someone who doesn’t love me a hundred times more than I love them. At least I’m not so goddamn shallow that I need someone to practically worship the ground I walk on before I can feel even the slightest bit of affection for them.” Donna is looking very pointedly away from both of them. 

“So, what? I’m a narcissist?”

“Among other things.”

“At least I’m not a neurotic pseudo-genius obsessed with feeling inferior to everyone around myself just so that I have something to distract me from the commitment issues that prevent me from staying in any one place or with any one person for longer than four years. You never count on anyone or anything, Sam, and you haven’t since your father-” Sam stops him with a sharp glance. “-well, you don’t. So then what were you counting on from me?” Before Sam can answer, Donna stands abruptly, still refusing to meet either of their eyes.

“Stop!” Josh inhales sharply, and his expression changes from one of smug indignation to one of embarrassment. Sam feels his face warm and fumes silently. “I’m going home,” Donna says, no longer shouting. “Goodbye.” She puts on her coat and storms away before Josh can follow her, which is presumably her intention. 

Josh and Sam are left at the table by themselves, empty glasses and peanut shells scattered across the scarred wood like pieces of their friendship, torn to shreds in the span of a single night. Wordlessly, Josh slams the last of his beer and gets up. He opens his mouth, but decides against it. His better angels won out, as Toby would have said. As Sam watches him go, he wonders if he has any better angels of his own. If he does, they lost tonight. He has no interest in drinking any more, but it’s cold outside, and after three years in the land of eternal summer, he still hasn’t readjusted to D.C. winters, so he stays even after last call comes, and only leaves as the bartender begins to flip chairs up onto the tables. Only then does he exit out into the bitter night, which is too quiet for a Friday night in Georgetown. He hails a cab and takes it back to his townhouse, but stops on the front steps, ignoring the snow that has begun to float down over his head. His townhouse is a symbol of everything that has abandoned him, and everything that he has abandoned. It is the place that he and Josh once spent weekends by themselves, no Donna, no Toby, no C.J., just the two of them, wondering where they might be two or four or eight years from then. They had never considered that they might end up here, in exile in their own home. Only D.C. doesn’t feel as much like home as it did when he first returned. Home, Sam realizes, has very little to do with the place he lives. That’s always been his problem. He tries to find a home in a location, but that isn’t how it works. His home lies wherever Josh is. That’s why he couldn’t feel at home in New York, or Orange County, or Los Angeles. Because Josh was always elsewhere, and Josh was always Sam’s home. Only now, that home is gone, slipping just out of reach without so much as a warning sign. Coping with loss has never been his strong suit. Coping with metaphorical homelessness is so daunting it seems impossible. All he wants is to not think about Josh, if just for a few hours, and he can’t do that here, not where they share so many memories. Sam leaves the front door locked and hails a second cab to an address downtown he only vaguely remembers. This is something he shouldn’t do, and something he wouldn’t do, but he needs something, anything, to get the battery acid taste out of his mouth. He finds the name he’s looking for on the buzzer and presses the bell, praying.

“Hello?” Will’s voice is thick and blurry, but there he is, somewhere above.

“Will? It’s Sam.”

“I- what are you doing here? It’s two-thirty.”

“I know. I’m sorry. Can I come up?” He expects Will to say no. It’s late, and another disappointment seems likely.

“Yeah, sure.” The door unlocks. Sam races up the walk-up’s stairs 2 at a time and finds Will waiting in his open doorway on the 5th floor. “Sam? What’s-” He doesn’t have a chance to finish, because Sam kisses him. Sam isn’t even sure what he’s doing, except that the battery acid taste is going away, replaced with the taste of bottom-shelf whiskey still faint on Will’s breath.

“Am I crossing a line?” Sam asks, pulling back for a moment, still gasping for air. He doesn’t think he is, he thinks Will’s been dropping hints for four years, but this isn’t something he’s going to do on hints. 

“No,” Will says simply, and steps back across the threshold of his apartment. Sam notices for the first time that he’s wearing pajamas and his hair is a mess. He dragged himself out of bed just to let Sam up. “Do you want to come in?” Sam looks down at the strip of metal that separates Will’s hardwood floors from the green hallway carpeting. Sometimes, things are not as plain as they seem, he thinks. Sometimes a doorway is more than just a doorway. Through the apartment, he can see a window, and outside, he can see that the flurry of snow has turned into a full-on whiteout. Standing outside Will’s apartment, on the edge of that threshold, he is not himself anymore. He left himself on his own front stoop, and now here he is, a new person carried around by the same old bones. “Sam? Are you coming?” Without a second thought, Sam steps inside and wraps his arms around Will, two skeletons just waiting for the snow to bury them.

He wakes in a bed that is not his own. He knows it’s not his, because the thread count of the sheets is decidedly lower, and he’s freezing, which never happens at his place, where the furnace is always cranked in the winter. Goosebumps spread across his chest and arms as he sits up and takes a look around. He didn’t see much of Will’s apartment last night, it was dark and he was a little bit busy, and he can’t see much of it now, except that the bedroom is neat, minimalistic, decorated in neutrals with only a few paintings and no photographs lining the walls. The only thing that tells him that someone lives here is the stack of cardboard boxes outside the closet, and of course Will, who is sitting on the opposite edge of the bed, facing the window, his back to Sam.

“Morning,” Will says without turning around.

“How much did it snow last night?”

“A few inches. They’ll have the roads plowed in time for you to get to work.” Sam falls back against the pillows. He’d forgotten about work today. He’ll have to see Josh, that’s literally his job description, and how they can begin to put the pieces of even their professional relationship back together is beyond him.

“Listen, Will-”

“I’m seeing someone.” And there it is. The disappointment Sam has been waiting for since arriving here last night. Well, really, it was early this morning.

“Who?” he asks at last, terrified of the answer.

“Kate Harper, the deputy NSA. For a couple months now, we’ve been...” Will finally turns back to look at him. Sam doesn’t know Kate well. He knows she’s only sticking around for another week to show her replacement the ropes, and he knows that Josh likes her, but they’ve never really spoken. Without ever speaking to her, Sam has ruined a woman’s relationship. Fantastic. Truly and entirely fantastic.

“Christ, Will.” Sam rubs his throbbing head. He had more to drink last night than he thought. “You know, I always told myself I’d never be the other guy. I said to myself, ‘Sam, look at yourself. What girl would want to cheat on you? Although, in retrospect, there may have been some inherent flaws in that argument.” Will laughs a little at this, and that makes Sam feel slightly better. “And I guess no one was cheating on me. So it doesn’t apply.”

“It makes sense. I’m sorry. I should have told you, or I never should have let you-”

“It is what it is. Neurotics are ruled by the ‘Tyranny of Should,’” he says absentmindedly, quoting his college psychology class and recalling what Josh said to him. “‘A neurotic pseudo-genius,’” he mutters to himself. “I’m sorry you didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“I didn’t get any, actually.”

“Really? I figured you were asleep when I rang the buzzer.” Will shakes his head.

“I almost was.”

“Why didn’t you go to sleep when you got home? That was, like, three hours before I left.”

“I tried, but then Josh called, after he left the bar, I guess. He only meant to say he was sorry he couldn’t say goodbye before I left, but he was drunk, and said more than he meant to. It’s okay. I know why you came here.”

“Really? It’s okay that I slept with you because I was pissed at Josh?” Will’s eyes narrowed.

“No, I mean that you slept with me because you’re in love with Josh and he’s in love with Donna.” Sam has to chuckle, and he slides out of bed, scanning the room for his pants. He won’t have time to stop at home before work, so he’ll have to wear his sweater in and have his assistant run to the dry cleaners to pick up one of his suits early. 

“I’m not in love with Josh.” Now it’s Will’s turn to laugh, and Sam finally understands why his laughter made Josh so angry. It’s about feeling like you’re not in on the joke, like everyone else in the world knows something about you before you know it about yourself, and to them, it’s funny.

“Sam, you’ve been in love with Josh as long as I’ve known the two of you. You were in love with him four years ago in California, and you’re in love with him now.”

“I’m not, I’m not-“

“Yes. You are.” Will tips Sam’s chin up with a finger, and shakes his head.

“You’re jealous of Donna, and at the risk of sounding harsh, you’ve got to get over it. That woman adores you, and if she thinks you resent her because Josh fell in love with her and not you, it will devastate her.”

“I’m-”

“If you say you’re not in love with Josh again, I’ll smack you.” He steps back and regards Sam carefully, like he’s a glass sculpture that could collapse in on itself at any moment. “I’m going to go put on a pot of coffee. Get dressed.” He sounds almost hurt, but leaves before Sam can ask him about it. 

“I’m not in love with Josh,” Sam repeats to himself. But the pieces are all there. The magnet in his stomach, the irrational anger at finding him with Donna, the actual physical pain he felt seeing them together. And then, like Cher in  _ Clueless,  _ it hits him. “Oh my god, I love Josh.” He falls back onto the bed. It was a schoolboy crush back when they were congressional aides, he knows that much, but he always assumed that went away and was replaced with a true, deep, lasting friendship. Maybe it hadn’t, though. Maybe Sam had just never loved before, not like he loved Josh, and so he didn’t know any better. Did Josh know? Is that why he thought Sam was jealous? What about Donna? If Will knew, how many more people did too?

The terrifying thing is simply that Sam hadn’t known, and so he had let his jealousy run rampant and demolish the world he had built for himself. He is someone who prides himself on knowledge, on being the smartest person in the room, and yet, his cluelessness is his downfall. It’s unfaceable, but he has to face it anyway, because that’s what you do when you serve at the pleasure of the president. Josh won’t have told anyone else, most likely, so there won’t be the epic embarrassment there might have been, but how he can see Josh again, Sam doesn’t know. He can’t do it without coffee, though, so he pulls his sweater over his head and combs his hair in the mirror as best he can with his hands. Will is sitting at the kitchen table, already drinking from a steaming cup. Silently, he nods at the seat across from him, where there is a cup of hot coffee already waiting for Sam.

“No milk, four sugars. Right?”

“Uh, yeah. That’s right.” Sam sips his coffee and looks out the window at the snow-covered street below. “Listen, Will, I really am sorry, I was drunk last night, and pissed-off, and… jealous, I guess, and I shouldn’t have-”

“What? Used me?” 

“That’s- yeah. Pretty much.”

“Don’t beat yourself up. You may have used me last night, but I let you. You asked me if you were crossing a line, and I said no. I knew exactly what the consequences would be, so I’m not blaming you.” 

“I appreciate that. I need one person on my side.”

“I am on your side, assuming you go apologize to Donna for whatever the hell you said to her last night. But you have a ridiculous amount of baggage, and you need to work your shit out, Sam. And when you do, I’ll be in Oregon, but you can call me. I’ll always pick up the phone.”

“I don’t even know what to say to that.”   
“You don’t need to say anything.” Sam checks his watch.

“Fuck. I need to run.” He hesitates, but Will waves him on.

“Go. Just… call me. Or come see me before I go.”

“I will.” After a brief pause, Sam swoops down to kiss Will’s cheek. “Thank you. For everything.”

“Go to work, Sam.”

Sam hails a cab, wishing he had been sober enough last night to drive his own car to prevent his wallet from taking such a hit. As soon as Will’s building is out of sight, the feelings of isolation set in again, and without thinking, he pulls out his phone and dials the first number he can think of. It doesn’t even strike him that they haven’t spoken in months. 

“Hello?”

“Toby, I need your help.” On the other line, silence.

“Sam, I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m just barely not in federal prison right now, so I don’t know how much help I can be to you.” His wisecracks do not make Sam feel any better.

“I fucked up. I fucked it all up.”

“You mean with Josh?”

“Wait, you know about that? I mean, about our fight?”

“He texted me last night asking for advice. It would help me a lot if both of you remembered that I’m old, and I have two very young children, so I actually do need sleep. And not to be called at five-thirty.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Also, I know you and I know you’ve been in love with him for two decades.”

“Wait, I’m sorry, how did all of you know that and I didn’t?”

“You didn’t know you’re in love with Josh?”

“Not until this morning. I don’t want to talk about it.” If Sam could have seen Toby right now, he’d be sure he was rolling his eyes.

“Sam... the way you look at Josh? It’s the same way I look at Andy, or at least, when we were married- you know what? Bad example. It’s the way Danny looks at C.J. or Bartlet looks at Abbey.”

“It’s the way Josh looks at Donna,” Sam says, filling in the blank.

“Exactly. We all knew it, the same way we all knew how Donna felt about him. It’s not her fault Josh is a moron. And he is a moron, by the way, for not picking you. At least, if you ask me.”

“Toby, that’s almost sweet of you.”

“Shut up.”

“Okay.”

“Anyway, I don’t know how much help I can give you. I’m not exactly the most knowledgeable about repairing relationships. Obviously. What I can tell you is that Josh loves you, even if it isn’t the same way you love him, and if your heart is broken right now, so is his.”

“How do I fix it?” The cab pulls up to the White House and Sam hops out. 

“I don’t know. I’m sorry, I am, but I really don’t.” 

“Okay. Hey, can we hang out sometime this week? I feel like I haven’t seen you in years.”

“Sure, Sam. Good luck.”

“Thanks.” Standing outside the front gate, Sam takes in the building he’s spent the majority of the last decade and a half of his life in. Both times, he and Josh went in together, and he’ll be damned if they don’t see it all the way through this time around. Together. 

Sam manages to duck into his office without anyone stopping him, which is a minor miracle. He closes the door and lets out a sigh of relief, all too soon.

“Sam.”

“Jesus!” He jumps. Donna is sitting on the loveseat crammed into the corner, with her hands folded in her lap. She looks as exhausted as he feels. “Um… hi, D.”

“Hi.” He sits down next to her. 

“Donna, I’m-“

“Wait.” Donna sniffs, and he sees that her eyes are rimmed in red. “Damn it, I don’t know why I’m still crying.”

“Really, I’m sorry-“

“Stop it. Please. I know you’re sorry.”

“I just- I feel like an idiot.”

“If you’re looking for someone to tell you you’re not, you’ve got the wrong girl.” It’s a little mean, but he deserves it, and he laughs. To his surprise, she laughs too. “I think you were stupid last night, Sam, and I think you were mean. But that’s not to say I don’t understand it. I do. I think if I had been in your position, and I’d been watching Josh with a new girlfriend, I’d have lashed out just the same as you.”

“Am I really the only person who didn’t know I was in love with Josh?”

“You didn’t know?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Donna leans her head against his shoulder, sending a waterfall of blonde hair spilling down between them. 

“You remember why you and I became friends?”

“Because my dad’s a piece of shit.”

“Well, sure, but I think it’s because both of us were pining for that fool down the hall. Even if you didn’t realize you were pining. We bonded over being stupidly in love.”

“And he chose you. I actually don’t think he ever realized that I loved him-“ The words are still hard to say. “That I loved him the same way that you did. That I loved him more than I have ever loved anyone else.”

“You and I would have burned this town to the ground just for a single look from him. We were idiots.”

“Well, how much does that matter now? How stupid we were then? You’re not an idiot, you’ve got the guy. He looks at you every single day and he sees you for who you are. He sees you for how much you love him, and he loves you back.” Sam finds it impossible not to be happy for her as he says it, after spending years watching her try to distract herself from Josh by dating an endless stream of guys who treated her even worse than Josh had. Still, he has regrets. “Those are three things I never got from him.”

“So what, it’s my fault? Samuel Norman Seaborn, you are my best friend, but if you’re angry with me because he doesn’t love you...” Sam shakes his head.

“I’m not. How could I ever be angry with you, Donnatella? I’m not angry with Josh either, please tell him that. I didn’t- well, I did mean what I said, but I shouldn’t have said it. You deserve to be loved, Donna, by him or by someone else if you decide you’re too good for him, which you are. It was always going to be you two, and I should have seen that long ago. I never had a shot in the dark.”

“You know he’s not the only man, right? He’s just one stupid, oblivious little star in a galaxy- no, an entire cosmos of people who will love you just as much as you love them, and who will see you, and see how much you love them, and love you equally.”

“Maybe. The trouble with cosmos is that stars are, on average, seventy-six billion miles apart.”

“Why do you know that?”

“I like space.”

“Alright, then stars were a bad metaphor. My point is that Josh Lyman is not the center of the universe, and both you and I have to stop treating him like he is. You were mean last night, but you were right. I worshipped him for years, and I did let him treat me like shit. He is not the sun, and you are not seventy-six billion miles away from the next person who loves you. This isn’t a movie, Sam, okay? The credits don’t start rolling once the guy gets the girl. I’m not done finding myself just because Josh finally got his head on straight, and your life isn’t over just because he doesn’t love you like that. That’s not how it ends.”

“How does it end?” He wraps an arm around her shoulders.

“That depends. Are you and Josh going to make up?”

“I don’t know. I’d like to try.”

“Then that’s your first step. And if he’s still a moron, and he doesn’t listen, I’ll talk some sense into him.”

“Thank you.”

“What are friends for?” She stands to leave.

“Donna?”

“Hmm?”

“Are we okay? You and I?” Sighing, she smiles.

“We will be. Talk to Josh.”

“Okay.” She leaves and Sam rubs his eyes, still exhausted and more than a little hungover. His life is rebuilding itself, piece by piece, a fragile fort with no defenses, but he is himself once again. A new version, perhaps, but still Sam.

“Sam?” He glances up. His assistant stands in the doorway. “The president wants senior staff in the Oval.” Sam looks down at himself. He’s still wearing his day-old Princeton sweater and jeans, but there’s no time. 

“Shit. Okay. Can you run to the dry cleaners and pick up one of my suits?” His assistant nods and scurries away. Sam rises on shaky legs and starts in the direction of the Oval Office. The first thing he notices is that the magnet feeling is gone. He’s just walking, rather than being pulled. It’s freeing, in a way, but it still hurts. Ronna waves him into the Oval and Sam freezes in the doorway. The room is almost empty except for one of the sofas in the middle of the carpet, where Josh sits, facing Sam, but with his head down, flipping through a file. He looks up as Sam enters, but doesn’t say anything. With the meticulousness of a tightrope walker, Sam crosses the room and sits on the sofa opposite Josh. They regard each other silently for a moment.

“Sam-” Josh begins, but is interrupted by Lou and President Santos, who enter from the portico. The rest of the staff files in, and they begin discussing Kazakhstan or ethanol or something. Whatever it is, Sam’s not listening. Josh turns around to add something, then turns back to Sam, and they lock eyes.  _ I’m sorry,  _ Sam mouths. Josh looks as though he might cry for just a split second, but shakes it off.   
_ I know,  _ he replies, and gives Sam one of his trademark half-smiles before diving back into the discussion. It’s not nothing, and that’s something. 

Tomorrow, Sam decides, he’ll bring Josh coffee. 

After all, the movie isn’t over.


End file.
